


Four-legged Family

by Anonymous



Category: Knight & Rogue - Hilari Bell
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 14:45:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2815934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Fisk/Michael.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four-legged Family

**Author's Note:**

> This is for one of the people who never got back to me about prompts.

“No, Michael.”

“But Fisk, we-“

“ _No_. One is enough, we definitely do not need another.”

“But Fisk, look at him!”

The squire sighed as he complied with his friend’s demand, turning to look at the puppy trailing behind their horses. Trouble had been bounding between them and the pup for a good few hours now, obviously thrilled to have someone to play with before returning to his humans.

“I’m looking. It’s a puppy.” Fisk told Michael, still unimpressed.

“He needs our help, Fisk. We can’t let him down! Please, I’ll not ask for you to accept anything again!” Michael wheedled. For a man who prided himself on not falling for the pleas of others, Fisk was sadly useless when it came to Michael’s large, pleading eyes and wheedling tone.

“Fine.” He grumbled. “But only this once!”

“Yes, yes, of course, just this once!” Michael agreed, stopping Chant and turning to call the pup to him. Fisk sighed and turned around.  _Just this once_ , he told himself.

* * *

 

**_Two Months Later_ **

“No, Michael. We’ve got Trouble and Junior now, we don’t need another dog!” Fisk growled, pointing at the two dogs in mention.

“Oh, but Fisk, look at him.” Michael said, motioning to the small thing tied to the back of the bar. “He’s starving, poor thing, he needs us!”

“ _No._ ” Fisk said again.

“Fisk…” Michael murmured, using that stupid tone of voice where he was begging, acting all hurt…

“Fine, but  _no more_.”

“Of course!” Michael agreed, hurrying towards the mongrel tied up, wagging its tail and eager.

“That’s what you said last time.” Fisk grumbled, eyeing the two dogs who were staring at Michael as he untied the new mutt.

* * *

 

**_Two Weeks Later_ **

“ _No._ ”

“But Fisk!”

“ _No, Michael._ ”

“But  _Fisk!_ ”

“…Fine, but no more!”

“Of course!”

Five dogs, now.

* * *

 

**_One Month Later_ **

“Fisk can we-“

“No. No more dogs, Michael.”

“But just look at them! They need homes! Or they’ll be drowned!”

“Oh, for the love of- Michael, how are we going to take care of them? We can barely feed ourselves. Think reasonably. I know that’s difficult for you, but do try.”

Michael glared at Fisk, and then back at the dogs. “Look at them, they’re hunting dogs. They can feed us, and what we don’t eat we can sell.” He said after a moment.

“Fine, but these, Micahel,  _these are the last_.”

“Yes Fisk.” Michael said, a mock promise, as he walked over to negotiate for the dogs. Looking down at the dogs playing by the horses’ hooves, Fisk shook his head.

“The last of them my-“

* * *

 

“Fisk, I need the coin purse!”

Fisk woke up covered in dogs. Quite literally covered. There was Trouble resting across his stomach, Junior on his chest, Dusty on one hand, Nonny and Knight (Fisk supervised all naming after these two) curled up under his armpits, and then the three hunting dogs over his legs snoring like bears. In the past few months he’d gotten used to that though, so something else had woken him up. The squire pretended as though he was still asleep, trying to discern what had happened. If all the dogs were curled up on him it meant that Michael was not lying next to him as he normally was. He heard something like a scuffle from outside the door of the barn they’d been granted to sleep in.

“Where is that- oh dear, where did I…?” That was Michael’s voice, but he didn’t sound distressed. Fisk could hear multiple other voices surrounding Michael, each one sounding a bit more dissatisfied than the last. “One minute, just one minute, I promise I’ve got it!” Michael sounded a bit distressed, and Fisk slowly opened his eyes. He moved an arm and felt the dogs begin to wake. At this point in Fisk’s relationship with them, they knew that if he moved before day-break something was off. Each animal moved almost silently, crawling off of him and following him to the door.

“Come on, Sevenson, just get it out!” A rough voice growled, followed by a chorus of agreeing grumbles.

“I can’t—I don’t have it!” Michael declared.

“What? You don’t-“ There was an aggravated sigh, “You said you had the money.”

“Yes, well, it appears I actually don’t. So, if you could just… move along, I really must be returning-“

“No, you’re not going anywhere until we get our money.” There was the sound of a body being shoved against the wall and Michael cried out in pain. Barns like this always had odds and ends poking out simply to inflict pain, though Michael hadn’t believed Fisk when he’d said so. “So either get it, or we’re going to use your and your friend for it. He wouldn’t mind, I’m sure.”

Fisk shrugged at that, looking down at the poised dogs by his feet. He placed his hand on the door, ready to walk out with his little entourage following, when he heard another shove and Michael cry out in pain again. Now, that just wasn’t on. Nobody hurt Michael. Nobody. Fisk was allowed to berate him, but Michael was, after all,  _his_.

With a sudden shove, Fisk opened the door. With the backlighting from the barn he appeared to be a vengeful master of death, followed by many dogs of all sizes with their teeth bared and hackles rising. For a moment, nobody spoke.

“Get ‘em, boys.” Fisk said calmly, lifting his finger towards the offenders. Without another command the dogs leapt forward. The men surrounding Michael screamed as the terrors that Fisk commanded jumped on them, biting and scratching and barking and making a ruckus. It didn’t take long for the dogs to chase the men off, the four legged beasts returning with Fisk’s whistle. The ex con looked at Michael expectantly, raising his eyebrows. The knight errant ( _More like Knight Error,_  Fisk sighed in his mind) looked at him sheepishly.

“What was that about?” He demanded, picking up Dusty without thinking about it. The tiny dog loved cuddling and knew that if it could get Fisk while he was distracted he could be cuddled. He scratched behind the mutt’s ears, glaring at Michael who was holding his stomach carefully.

“Well, I know you said no more dogs, and then I saw this and I thought of you…” He pulled his hands away, revealing a small, sleepy-eyed kitten who looked up at Fisk and gave a gentle, tired mew. And no, Fisk’s heart did  _not_ break at the sight of those giant blue eyes looking up at him pleadingly. He set down Dusty and reached for the tiny thing, stroking its head.

“Michael bloody Sevenson,” he said calmly, “I love you, but you are sleeping out here tonight while the dogs and I sleep inside and warm.” With those words he ushered the dogs in, glared at Michael, and slammed the door on him. Inside the barn, Fisk put himself on the ground, the kitten on his chest, and let the dogs crawl over him. During the night he felt Michael join them, curling around his back, and Fisk woke up blearily. “No more animals.” He grumbled to the knight who only chuckled in response.

“You love them.” Michael murmured, nuzzling into Fisk’s neck. “You love me too.”

“Mhm… but no more… they’re like children. We’re too young to have children.” Fisk complained sleepily.

“Whatever you say, Fisk.” Michael agreed, drifting to sleep with all his family, the ones that mattered most, in one place.


End file.
